


Naughty and Nice

by ClikC



Series: Convergence of Fates [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Secret Santa, Widowtracer, Widowtracerdiscord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClikC/pseuds/ClikC
Summary: My Secrete Santa entry as part of the WidowTracer Discord community, a gift for TurboToast who prompted for "Art sfw, writing can be nsfw. I'd like some christmassy Widowtracer fluff, please. Maybe unpacking presents (of whatever kind you like) or just cuddling in ugly sweaters"Hopefully this will be enjoyable.





	Naughty and Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TurboToast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurboToast/gifts).



The dark silver BMW 5 series Salon slowed to a halt, hovering neatly between the two white lines of an empty space in Bonlieu Préfecture. Widowmaker checked the mirrors. Nothing had followed her, and her parking position would allow for a quick escape if the time came. The parking area was low and flat positioned on Annecy’s northern most shoreline with the lake. Behind her and visible in the rear-view mirror between leafless trees, the tips of sail boats swayed in the chilled westerly breeze coming from the alps. The inclement weather had brought a light dusting of snow to the region, but the time of year necessitated the number of people out shopping. It was good cover, anyone on the lookout for former Talon agents would have to bare the cold, but the crowds would help conceal her mission. Certainly, the likelihood that Widowmaker, the most feared of Talon’s assassins would indeed be out on such a mission would be hard for anyone to guess. No one knew, it was the only way to be certain. Amélie felt the pang of guilt at having not divulged her plans to Lena this morning at breakfast, but she knew it would only provoke the Overwatch agent, who already wasn’t happy about Amélies insisted safe house location.

Widowmaker placed the cars maglev units into park, and pressed a slender finger to the red power button on the hoover car, setting the vehicle into hibernation mode before removing her gauntlet from her left arm, and slipping her fingers into thin black leather gloves, before unclipping her visor from her head and checking her hairline in the rear-view mirror. She hated to leave her toys behind, she always felt much more Amélie without them, but the visor would be sure to attract the wrong sort attention. Besides, wrapped up she would be showing only the smallest amount of periwinkle blue skin, harder to recognise in public spaces. Tightening the black silk scarf around her neck, and fastening up the buttons of her tight fitting three-quarter length black coat trimmed with purple edging, before opening the car door and stepping out into Annecy’s winter chill.

Amélie walked briskly, her hands slipped her hands into the pockets of her coat, sliding gloved fingers around the pistol grip of her small 9mm. A Heckler and Koch USP compact an ideal tool for the job, the reassuring feeling of its hardness eased some of Amélie’s tension, making her way quickly across the small street of rue de la prefecture and under the covered walkway of the small shopping district. She stopped in front of some large windows of a travel agent, using the reflection to check behind herself in case she was followed, but only a few people moved around in the carpark paying her no attention. Satisfied nothing untoward had happened, indicating she might have been spotted, she made her way down the street careful to keep close to the shop windows as possible. Amélie passed a few people, most were too engrossed in either their shopping, conversation or their destination to pay her any heed. But one or two did notice her unusual completion, but she avoided making eye contact which may invoke comment, and concentrated on maintaining her forward moment and reaching her destination. The journey was a short, part of the reason for selecting this particular place over other options in the area, Amélie arriving outside of a narrow shop. A single window in which was displayed a small mountain of boxes, toys, games, models and statues, of mainly fantasy and gaming figures. The Window was crammed from sill to ceiling, making it difficult to see the inside of the shop. Amélie took a deep breath, before turning into the doorway and pushing the door open with the tinkle of a bell to announce her presence.

Despite being one of the smallest of the shops in the area, it was remarkably deep, stretching back far more than the front would indicate. The small shop was crammed, narrow aisles of glass cabinets and display cases were flanked by small tables with displays of boxes, and racks of comic and fantasy books. Thankfully the shop was barely occupied, with only four people inside. A couple holding hands admired a cabinet of trading cards, while a middle-aged man stood flicking through the pages of a comic, while the forth, a younger man stood talking to the elderly white-haired shop keeper as he rang up his purchases. Amélie wandered through the aisles, making her way past merchandise for a vast variety of Omnic and Human movies and TV shows alike, towards the more promising selection of model cars nearer the shop counter. Amélie stood for a moment watched the progress of a three-wheeled model steam locomotive towing a small train of wagons around a loop of track in a nearby glass case, before turning to a stand full of very small tins of paint. The young man at the counter thanked the shop keeper, and left the shop wishing a Joyeux Noël to everyone on the way out.

The shop keeper, having spotted the very sore thumb standing in his shop, enquired of Amélie.

 

                "Bonjour madame, bienvenue chez Neurones, puis-je vous aider?"

                “Hello Madam, welcome to Neurones boutique, how can I help you.”

 

                "Bonjour Monsieur, je suis Danielle Guillard, j'ai téléphoné dans la semaine à propos d'un modèle d'avion."

                “Bonjour Monsieur, I am Danielle Guillard, I telephoned in the week about a model aeroplane.”

 

                "Ah oui, oui Madame. Il est arrivé la semaine dernière, je l'ai ici avec les autres articles que vous avez demandés.”

                “Ahh yes, yes Madam. It arrived last week, I have it here with the other items you requested.”

 

The old man shuffled through a curtained doorway behind him, returning shortly with a medium sized brown cardboard box whose contents rattled slightly as the shopkeeper placed the box into a plastic carrier bag.

 

                “Ce sera 250 francs français Madame.”

                “That will be 250 French Francs Madam.”

 

Amélie produced a small black purse from the inside of one of her coat pockets, opening it and counting out the rolled plastic notes, before handing them to the shop keeper in exchange for the bag containing the brown card board box.

 

                “Bonne journée, Madam.”

                “Have a good day, Madam.

  

                “Merci”

                “Thank you”

 

Amélie nodded her reply, carrying the bag in her left hand, and slipping her right back into her coat pocket, she left the shop. So far so good so good, now just to get home without being trailed. Amélie had come the long way into Annecy, east around the lake to join the autoroute to enter Annecy from the north. The plan being that anyone looking for her would be focusing on the north, assuming perhaps she was coming from Geneva or even Paris. It was a bait, but it took time. A good hour on what was only a twenty-five-minute drive normally, still it also afforded Amélie a chance to visit Gerard’s grave, surely someone must have been keeping an eye on the place. It should be obvious to even the most dim-witted of Talon’s leaders that Widowmaker had betrayed them, that her conditioning had failed, that Amélie Lacroix still lingered despite their machinations. Surely the grave of her husband must have been guarded, watched, monitored.

Amélie spotted a man of military age and build in front of her as she walked back toward the parking prefecture, but he turned into a bakery without paying any attention. Darker clouds had rolled into view over the Alps, threatening more snow, perhaps a fresh wave of snow will dampen Lena’s anger for leaving the safehouse Amélie thought idly. Back across the pedestrian crossing and towards her car. Amélie removed a slim black phone from the inside pocket of her coat and checking the time indicated 14:09. She had spent too long in Crematorium Et Cimetière D'Annecy, but couldn’t have left Gerard’s headstone uncleaned. She had 20 minutes to make a 24-minute car journey if she took the shortest route, assuming she wouldn’t need to waylay any wood be pursuers. Amélie unlocked the cars boot, which caused a yell of surprise, but not from herself. Amélie ducked down between two adjacent cars, drawing her pistol,

                “Don’t shoot Araña!”.

Widow edged around the car, the sights of her pistol levelled on the 5’6” form of Sombra.

                “I’m unarmed. I just want to talk.” Sombra added, her hands up palms open.

                “Who knows you’re here? How many? Where?” growled Widow through gritted teeth, not lowing her aim.

                “It’s just me Araña, no one knows I’m here.”

                “How do you know I was here?”

                “I’ve got a tap on the surveillance at the Crematorium, saw you coming in, tracked your car the rest of the way.” Sombra replied matter-of-factly. “I knew you can’t keep away this time of year.” Sombra added with a sad smile. “I covered for you enough times to know that.”

Widowmaker sighed, lowering her gun and standing up to her full and rather impressive height.

                “Why would you help me like that?” Was all she thought to ask, approaching the car.

                “Because you are my friend, Arandano.” Sombra added, with a teasing smirk. “Why didn’t you let us know? Me and Poetry-boy could have helped.”

                “Quoi?” Amélie quirked an eyebrow as Sombra, now leaning on the cars rear quarter panel watching as she placed her recently acquired gifts in the boots of the car.

                “They’ve got you wound so tight.” Sombra sighed. “I can’t say I blame you, it’d be hard to trust anyone after half of what they’ve done to you.”

Widow felt her shoulder sag, it’d had been tough towards the end, keeping the act up.

                “We miss you.” Sombra added. “Even billowy-coat-king-of-pain.” Smirking again. “Your little stunt has them all chasing shadows, Moira’s busy checking all of Talon’s science work from the beginning, she’ll figure it’s me sooner or later. They aren’t happy at all, you know too much.”

                “Humph!” Amélie grunted. “Might have crossed their minds not to have destroyed my life, and then turned me into the perfect solution to _their_ problem.” Amélie placed delicate emphasis on the word.

                “About that.” Sombra interjected, reaching into the inside of her coat and producing a slim piece of opaque glass and tossing it to Amélie. “Should be enough information on that disc, to persuade Jack Morrison not to put a bullet in Reyes head, not that it’d have much of an effect. Just, just tell them I gave it to you yeah?” Sombra added, worrying her bottom lip.

Amélie examined the piece of crystal, knowing Sombra rarely shared information unless it was for her own gain.

                “I’ll pass it on to Lena, they could use all the help they can get.” Amélie added.

                “Won’t let you play yet, huh?” Sombra observed knowingly.

                “Non, Tracer, Lena trusts me. But the others, do not.” A sad smile played on her lips.

                “Perhaps that will help.” Sombra added. “Look, you have to get going, they have patrols. I’ll make sure you're not noticed, just take the short way back yeah?”

                “Short way?” Amélie enquired. Sombra merely winked and turned to leave. “Sombra!” Amélie called after the retreating back.

                “Yes Araña?” Sombra asked, as Widow approached.

Amélie bent down and placed a delicate kiss on Sombra’s cheek. “Joyeux Noël, Olivia.” Amélie whispered the name. A rather stunned Sombra touched her cheek where a purple smudge indicated the location of cool lips moment earlier. “Look after him for me, will you?” Sombra merely nodded, as Amélie opened the driver’s door and slipping inside. As a last smile was exchanged before the two friends departed in their separate directions.

Taking Sombra’s advice, Amélie took the short way home, along the Rue Jean Jaurès past Jardins de l'Europe over the canal bridge and onto Rue des Marquisats. There was a lot of heavy traffic about, but with the car set to autopilot Amélie had time to think, nothing obviously tailing her. Amélie slipped the quartz disc from inside her coat pocket and took a closer look. She was no computer expert, but she’d hung around Sombra on enough stealth-infiltration missions on closed systems to know a server sized physical storage device when she saw one. This disc could contain millions of records of who knows what intelligence Sombra had locked away, delivering this in person would have been a risk, epically considering what must be heightened security since Widowmaker’s departure from Talon.

The rest of the journey along Route d'Annecy was uneventful, passing through the sleeply little frence villages that dotted the shore of lake Annecy, save for the snow now starting to fall thick and fast Lena would be delighted. Nearing the village of Duingt where of Amélie’s ancestral home lay on the shores of the lake, the car turned into the drive of one of the shore front cottages used by Overwatch as Amélie’s safe house. Close enough for Amélie to observe the comings and goings of anyone attempting to visit the Château Guillard. Amélie had point blank refused to leave Annecy, for fear of not being able to protect what remained of should have been hers and Gerard's home. It had taken some convincing of Jack Morrison to approve the order, but somehow Lena had convinced him to allow it. The cottage had all the makings of an open prison installed by the newly assembled and reborn Overwatch. It was oppressive, but necessary, even if Amélie did feel like she was under house arrest. The car crept slowly up down the gravel driveway towards the attached double garage who’s door lift open as the car drew near.

Amélie swallowed and braced herself, the sight of agitated orange legging clad legs greeted her as the door swung full open and the car glided to a halt. Lena, in all her typical action attire of bizarre crocs-like trainers and sheepskin flight jacket, was talking adamantly into a telephone a look of annoyance on her always expressional face. Amélie once again placed the cars maglev units into park, and pressed a slender finger to the red power button on the hoover car, setting the vehicle into hibernation mode. Before opening the driver’s, door and stepping out.

                “No, no, it’s okay Angela.” Lena was still talking into the phone. “I’ll tell her.” Lena gave Widow a withering look. “I’ll see you tomorrow okay? Thanks luv.” Lena finished with a sigh.

                “Where have you been!” Lena admonished Amélie, striding over to where she stood and pointing a finger at her chest.

                Amélie raised her eyebrows “I’ve been out kissing other girls, Chérie.” Amélie informed, before turning and walking to the back of the car. Leaving a rather wrong-footed Lena agape.

                “What?!”

                “Relax, ma chérie.” Amélie collected the bag from the boot of the car.

                “Don’t relax me! I come home, house empty, so sign of you! Anything could have happened!” Lena said indignantly.

                “Lena.” Amélie walked back up to the dimunitive brit. “I went into town to collect your present.” Amélie bent down and pressed full cool lips to Lena thinner warmer ones. “If I’d have told you, you would have tried to stop me. Nothing happened, I took precautions.”

Amélie could see the mix of emotions. Her _petite amie_ must have been really frightened and worried, she really shouldn’t have spent as much time as she did. Lena visibly relaxed, the tension leaving her. Amélie awaited the next to resurface, and as regular as the chimes of Big Ben, one did.

                “You went and got me a present luv?” Lena’s lopsided smile appeared through the mists of her worry and annoyance at Amélie. “Wha’cha get me?” Lena’s eye zoomed in on the bag in Amélie hands.

                “You will find out on Christmas Day.”

Lena blinked around Amélie, but wasn’t fast enough compared to Amélie’s reactions to snatch the bag. Amélie drew it up to her chest and headed for the door to the kitchen.

                “Please luv, just a peek.”

                “Non!”

Lena attempted to reach around Amélie from behind, but Amélie fought her off, heading through the kitchen into the hall and up the stairs to Amélie private bedroom.

                “You will have to wait.”

                “Pleeaseeeee?” Lena pouted with her best puppy dog eyes as Amélie closed the door to her bedroom in her face.

                “I’m going to wrap your present now.”

Lenas sigh was audible through the door. “No fun you are.” Amélie chuckled to herself, placing the bag on the three-quarter sized single bed. The room was dark, the curtains drawn. It was also rather messy, being primarily used as a dumping ground for various boxes of clothes and what not. The flight cases for Amélie’s sniper gear, along with Widow’s kiss lay on the bed, set out for when she needed them. Amélie retrieved the red and silver starred wrapping paper, Sellotape and scissors and started to get to work, momentarily distracted by Tracer trying to open the bedroom door as quietly as possible. Amélie dealt with the attempted intrusion by hitting Tracer square in the face with some balled up underwear, Trace complained about the sniper’s accuracy and stomped down stairs to make a ‘brew’.

Fifteen or so minutes later, Amélie walked into the living room carrying an exquisitely wrapped pair of parcels, both tied with a long length of green ribbon, which she placed under the small Christmas tree in the corner alongside the other ‘official’ presents. Lena was sat on the sofa with an unbelievably comic pout while staring out of the window into the front garden watching the snow fall, her flight jacket chucked into a chair in the corner, and her Chronal accelerator on charge in its docking station. Amélie sat primly on the sofa next to Lena, before lifting a cup of Lena’s patented ‘Builders tea’ to her lips, and taking a sip. Setting the cup back down and slipping her arms around Lena waist, Lena didn’t complain, but the pout remained.

                “Ma petite amie, are you still cross with me?” Amélie gently whispered into Lena’s ear.

                “Yes.”

                “Because I won’t let you see your present?” Amélie quirked an eyebrow.

                “No.” Lena pouted even more.

Amélie slipped her cold hands quickly under Lena's white vest, finding her ticklish sides with well-practiced precision. Lena gasped for air, arching her back before laughing and gigging uncontrollably, her limbs flailing wildly in a desperate attempt to fight Amélie off her. It wasn’t until Amélie was laying on top of a very breathless and teary eye Lena did Amélie relinquish her assault on Lena’s _very_ ticklish bits.

                “Désolée ma chérie, I didn’t mean to worry you. I hoped to be home before you, but Gerard's headstone was very dirty.” Amélie added nuzzling Tracers chin.

                “You went to go see him?” Lena asked, her hazel eyes meeting Amélie's golden irises.

Amélie smiled sadly.

 

                “I also have something for you.” Amélie sat up a little, slowly drawing Lena’s eyes as hand slid slowly down her black strappy camisole top, carefully watching as Lena’s eye travelled south with the progress of her hand as Amélie produced the Crystalline Disc from the inside of her bra. Amélie admired the slight red tinge that coloured Lena’s freckled cheeks.

                “I bumped into Sombra.” Amélie admitted, “she gave me this in the hope that Overwatch could use the information it contained.”

                “Sombra?” Lean asked, a concerned look crossing her face. “You’re not concerned this could be a tracking device luv?”

Amélie shook her head.

                “To what end?” Amélie sighed “To find me in an untidy house with my also heavily armed time traveling girlfriend? They would have taken me in the open.” Amélie added. “I,” Amélie paused for a moment, “I trust her.”

                “I’ll take it to Winston tomorrow.” Lena said, taking the small disc. “We’ll have to play it better safe than sorry, but we could use all the help we can get.” Lena added before pausing. “But, it doesn’t seem like her to just go giving information away, what’s her angle?”

                “I don’t know.” Amélie replied, “Seemed to think it might save her and Reyes' necks.”

Lena slipped the disc into the waistband pocket of her leggings, as Amélie worried her lip.

                “Was that who you were kissing luv?” Lena smirked.

                “Maybe.” Amélie replied, giving Lena a smouldering look.

                “Wish you’d kiss me.” Lena blurted out, causing Amélie to laugh.

                “Your wish is my command, chérie.” Amélie answered, gently lowing her lips to Lena’s and starting the now familiar dance of warm and cool lips and tongues. The evening past slowly, as they enjoyed each other company.

 

\----- 

 

The remaining few days before Christmas passed in a flurry of activity, the information Sombra had given Amélie was apparently of so much importance that several immediate actions were required, resulting in a very tired Lena often asleep within moments of being home. Although Amélie had caught Lena once or twice attempting to guess the contents of her present by shaking, this normally resulted in Amélie giving her a stern look, and Lena blushing furiously as she put it down. Amélie had even been summoned once again to the newly rebuilt Overwatch base in Zürich, where was she was interrogated again, the process eased slightly by Lena holding her hand throughout. Amélie confided in Lena over one too many bottles of red wine on Christmas Eve, that she hoped she might be allowed to help on missions, to help repent for her past transgressions. Lena had promised to bend Jack’s ear on the subject, but sagely advised that Amélie should just keep her head down and await the opportunity to present itself, trust being thin on the ground.

And so Amélie found herself on Christmas day helping Lena in the kitchen preparing a traditional British Christmas Roast. Lena had made some very distinct faces when Amélie had explained that growing up she’d typically had oysters or lobster as her Christmas meal, Lena had taken great exception to the concept of seafood for Christmas, and thus a Turkey was slowly roasting in the oven and Amélie had been allowed to prepare the many desserts including a lovely Bûche de Noël as a centre piece. Even Lena couldn’t turn her nose up at chocolate cake.

Lena was desperate to open her large pile of presents, but Amélie was much more reserved, insisting on refraining her smaller pile until after their Christmas dinner. So, Lena, Amélie assumed out of guilt due to the size of gift pile, had not yet opened a single present despite frequent glances towards the Christmas tree. The two enjoyed their Christmas meal side by side, while the stereo played a selection of Christmas classics, which Lena hummed in-between mouthfuls. The turkey was cooked to perfection despite Amélie’s reservations over British Cuisine and Lena’s culinary skills, beans on toast had been an experience Amélie would not soon forget, everything was a perfect Christmas. Something Amélie had not experienced in years, Lena’s foot stroking her calf throughout the meal was the icing on the cake, causing the corners Amélie’s lips to constantly twitch into a threatening smile.

                “Not bad eh?” Lena said through a mouthful of food, breaking the silence with a nudge to Amélie’s ribs.

                “It beats a ration pack, and watching Sombra annoy Gabriel all day chérie.”

Lena wore green festive leggings, an over large red and white Christmas jumper, one bare freckled shoulder visible through the neck hole. Topped off with a lime green paper hat jauntily placed on her typically unruly hair. Amélie’s hair was tied back in her usual elegant ponytail, she wore a little black dress topped off with a festive corsage pinned to one side, sheer black stockings (A treat for Lena later) paired with a pair of black buckled high heeled ankle boots. Amélie had refused to wear one of the silly paper hats which came out of the Christmas crackers, but Lena’s pout and sad puppy dog eyes had made her cave, and a purple paper hat was now neatly placed squarely upon her head like a crown.

                “It’s perfect ma chérie.” Amélie whispered in Lena’s ear, before placing a purple kiss on her lover’s cheek.

                “Presents next.” Lena beamed, excitement shining in her eyes.

Amélie smiled. After the meal, Lena dragged Amélie by the hand over to the sofa, and doled out the presents. Amelie sat primly on the sofa, her small pile located on the coffee table. Lena sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by all her presents. Amélie laughed as Tracer grinned happily and tore open the first of Amélie’s gifts to her, a book on French cooking Amélie had got her as a joke, Lena laughed and attempted to throw the wrapping paper at her. Amélie enjoyed a wonderful five minutes watching Tracer unwrap the bulk of her presents, all from various members of Overwatch, even treated to the sight of Lena’s wonderful flat tummy due to taking off her Christmas jumper in exchange for a new one from Winston. Apparently, the gorilla-scientist dabbled in knitting in his spare time. With some prompting, Amélie opened the first of her presents, a small diary from Angela with wishes that Amélie might find it therapeutic. Lena was busy eating the swiss chocolates Angelina had given her. A rather thick book titled ‘Bolshoi Confidential: Secrets of the Russian Ballet from the Rule of the Tsars to Today’ from Lena. A gift of les truffes from Mei was a nice thought, and even a purple knitted woollen hat from Winston. Amélie idly wonder how much Lena had begged her friends to buy gifts for her, she didn’t deserve presents like these.

Lena laughed like a loon once she finally opened Amélie’s main gift to her, absolutely delighted with her 1/48 scale Airfix Supermarine Spitfire Mk1, along with all the paints glues and tools needed to make the kit. Amélie had seen Lena’s collection of model aeroplanes in her London flat, relics from her plane obsessed childhood before joining the RAF. Amélie was treated to an extra special Christmas kiss for such a thoughtful gift. Finally, with only Amélie’s special gift remaining, the largest of her gifts Lena sat in rapt attention as Amélie carefully removing the silver ribbon the purple and silver stripped wrapping paper, taking care not to rip it. Underneath a white box, embossed with the logo ‘Freed of London’, Amélie starred for a moment before giving Lena a saddened look.

                “Lena no, I cannot accept.”

                “Don’t be silly luv, they are for you.” Lena smiled exasperatedly.

                “It is too much! And I only bought you silly gifts.”

                “I want you to have them.” Lena replied. “You’ve not even looked at them yet”

Amélie lifted the lid, and pulled back the tissue paper revealing a pair of handmade pointe shoes in black satin, Amélie could tell at a glance they would fit perfectly. Amélie shook her head and tried to place the lid back on the box, but Lena’s hands cupped her own preventing her.

                “They are for you, and I’m not taking them back.” Lena added firmly. “Can’t dance again without good shoes, and you need the best luv.”

Amélie slid from the sofa, tackling Lena to the floor, cupping her face and kissing her passionately. Before breaking the kiss and looking into Lena’s eyes while stroking the apples of Lena’s cheeks with her thumbs.

                “No tears luv, it’s Christmas.”

                “They are happy tears ma chérie.” Amélie replied, “I don’t deserve you.” Before kissing Lena and cutting off her reply.

Amélie spent the rest of Christmas day listening to cheesy Christmas music while lazily watching Lena start to build her model aeroplane, occasionally employed to hold a fiddly bit was Lena glued it into position. Amélie’s steady hands for years of operating a sniper rifle being of excellent use. Amélie read her book, her pointe shoes sat on top of the box displayed on the coffee table. But mainly, Amélie enjoyed the presence of her happy girlfriend.

 

\-----

 

It was late on Christmas day, they had drunk a lot of wine, and Lena’s part finished model sat lopsided on the coffee table next to Amélie’s pointe shoes. In the messy living room strung with bits of wrapping paper. The kitchen piled high with unwashed dishes and crockery. They would tidy tomorrow.

In the bedroom, Amélie employed Lena to unzip her little black dress, enjoying the reaction to realising Amélie wasn’t wearing tights, but a rather fetching purple and black Lingerie set, with stockings and suspenders. Lena swallowed hard.

                “Are you cross with me for your present luv?”

                “I’m very, _very_ cross with you.” Amélie answered, crawling onto the bed.

Lena swallowed hard again. Clad in her white and blue stripped button up Pyjamas. Amélie reached into her bra, and produced the length of silver ribbon that had tied her present.

                “I know you planned this.” Amélie answered, Lena’s blush was all the confirmation she needed.

                “Bend over.”

                “W-what.”

                “You heard me.” Amélie replied sternly, enjoying the sight of Lena obediently getting onto all fours.

Amélie positioned herself behind Lena, running her hand down Lena’s back, stroking her.

                “Give me your wrists.”

Lena obeyed with a whimper, as Amélie slowly bound her wrists with the length of ribbon, before sliding her hands over Lena’s hips and hooking her fingers under the elasticated waist band. Before slowly drawing the waist band down, exposing Lena’s creamy coloured bottom. Amélie ran her hands over the firm flesh of Lena’s adorable bum, she was trembling already.

                “You.” Amélie’s hand landing a reverberating smack on one cheek.

                “Have.” Amélie alternated.

                “Been.” *smack*

                “A.” *smack*

Lena whimpered.

                “Naughty.” *smack*

                “Ghearl…” *smack*

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing much to note here. But Widow had, rather spectacularly left the service of Talon sometime in the future of the current Overwatch canon, with the aid of our plucky brit. This piece see Widow shopping for a gift for Tracer. Which lets face it, would be a crime if it wasn't an Airfix kit.


End file.
